Haven
Super_Ideal_Rock
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2007
- Messages
- 13,166
I know there are a lot of you lurking out there--you lack energy, the days are blurring together, you''re starting to slur your words because it''s just too hard to focus anymore. Your nights are becoming restless, you''re having those dreams about showing up without your syllabus, or your quiz, or heaven forbid, your makeup. You start to hear bells every 47 minutes, taunting you. Riiiiiing. Riiiiiing.
You realize that once again you will have to schedule your bathroom trips to fit into five minute passing periods, including travel time and pushing through over-perfumed adolescents. Or sticky five-year-olds.
You look longingly at the frying pan sitting on your stove top. You mutter a little apology, a preemptive "I''m sorry" because you know it will sit egg-less for the next nine months. You will switch to pre-packaged meals and fiber-packed breakfast bars with silhouettes of dancing women on them. There will be no time for food preparation where you are going.
Your alarm clocks will all change, you will go back to waking up in the fives instead of the nines. You promise yourself that you will grade all of your papers as soon as you get them, that you will not stay up until the threes writing lesson plans and breaking copyright laws on the office copier. You know that these are empty promises. You make a note to stock up on under-eye concealer.
You now savor your midday trips to the gym. You smile a little longer at the old timers with whom you''ve been sharing treadmills and free weights all summer. You like to think they will miss you when you''re gone.
You have a long conversation with the telemarketer who calls at lunchtime. You tell him you will miss screening his calls. And you will.
Your poor dogs, they too will have to adjust to a new bathroom schedule.
Your friends don''t even pretend to sympathize with you. Your significant other thinks your insane. He reminds you that you slept until ten the other day.
Yes, you''ve got it, the sickness. The August curse. You''re down and nobody else understands, because SUMMER IS COMING TO AN END!
Oh, the pain! The despair! The parent phone calls!
You realize that once again you will have to schedule your bathroom trips to fit into five minute passing periods, including travel time and pushing through over-perfumed adolescents. Or sticky five-year-olds.
You look longingly at the frying pan sitting on your stove top. You mutter a little apology, a preemptive "I''m sorry" because you know it will sit egg-less for the next nine months. You will switch to pre-packaged meals and fiber-packed breakfast bars with silhouettes of dancing women on them. There will be no time for food preparation where you are going.
Your alarm clocks will all change, you will go back to waking up in the fives instead of the nines. You promise yourself that you will grade all of your papers as soon as you get them, that you will not stay up until the threes writing lesson plans and breaking copyright laws on the office copier. You know that these are empty promises. You make a note to stock up on under-eye concealer.
You now savor your midday trips to the gym. You smile a little longer at the old timers with whom you''ve been sharing treadmills and free weights all summer. You like to think they will miss you when you''re gone.
You have a long conversation with the telemarketer who calls at lunchtime. You tell him you will miss screening his calls. And you will.
Your poor dogs, they too will have to adjust to a new bathroom schedule.
Your friends don''t even pretend to sympathize with you. Your significant other thinks your insane. He reminds you that you slept until ten the other day.
Yes, you''ve got it, the sickness. The August curse. You''re down and nobody else understands, because SUMMER IS COMING TO AN END!
Oh, the pain! The despair! The parent phone calls!